


Mon Coeur

by BananasofThorns, StrangeMischief



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-26 09:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeMischief/pseuds/StrangeMischief
Summary: Tony had shattered Stephen’s heart; he’d killed Stephen.





	Mon Coeur

**Author's Note:**

> As always, enjoy :3

_Mon Coeur_

_One. Two. Three. Breathe._

“Strange!”

_One. Two. Three. Breathe._

“Strange, come on!”

_One. Two. Three. Breathe._

“He is gone.”

_One. Two. Three. Breathe._

“Shut up! He’s fine. You’re _fine, _Strange.”

_One. Two. Three. Breathe._

“Strange…_Stephen_! Come on!”

_One. Two. Three. Breathe._

“Not you too. Not you too. _Please._”

_One. Two. Three. Breathe._

Stephen’s eyes flew open, his pupils constricting as he drew in a ragged gasp. It felt as if a boulder was sitting on his chest, restricting his breathing and crushing his ribs. It hurt. Stark was pounding on his sternum, demanding Stephen breathe. That hurt too. _Everything hurt._

\---

Between Stark and the cyborg, Nebula, it didn’t take long to patch together Nebula’s damaged pod. Stephen still teetered dangerously on the verge of consciousness, but he was fairly sure that when Stark asked if it’d get them to Earth, the word Nebula had used was _maybe. _It was discomforting, to say the least.

\---

As they drifted away from Titan and into the eerie silence of space, Stephen managed to stay conscious long enough to make a horrifying realization. The Guardians were gone. Peter was gone. Stephen didn’t ask why.

Truthfully, he didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to. Just breathing took a monumental effort -- an effort Stephen frequently found himself unable to put in. Every so often his head would become light, and his eyes would flutter as his chest constricted in tight, burning pain. It was grueling. It was torturous. Stephen just wanted it to _stop._

Unaware, or perhaps unsympathetic, of Stephen’s desires, Stark would always be back upon him within moments, hands crushing into his chest, frantically whispering demands in Stephen’s ear. Stephen would, of course, oblige, resuming his short, shallow breaths until the next time his heart could take no more.

\---

Nebula guided the ship. As far as Stephen could tell, she hardly left the helm except to shoot Stark exasperated glances.

Stark, for his part, sat next to Stephen’s makeshift sickbed and tinkered with a pile of scraps he had salvaged from Titan, occasionally reaching over to grasp Stephen’s slender wrist to check his pulse.

Though by no means an expert on the human heart, Stephen liked to think he knew enough to know his was failing, that he was dying. He wanted to beg Stark to leave him alone. To let him die. The stone was gone, and his heart was giving out; what use was he of now?

\---

Stephen snapped back into consciousness, back arched upward and coughing heavily as Stark’s hands withdrew from his chest. Nebula’s smooth fingers dug into Stephen’s shoulders, pinning him down where he lay. “Stark,” Stephen groaned faintly, head lolling back. “Please. _Please._” How many days had it been? How many times had this scene already been played out? How much longer would he have to willfully and forcefully expand his lungs for a small breath of air?

Nebula shot him a pitying glance, but Stark said nothing, too focused on a glowing device in his hand. “I know you want to wait, but I don’t know how much longer he can do it,” Stark mumbled to Nebula. The cyborg nodded, “I agree, the wizard doesn’t have much time.”

Tony frowned and grumbled, “Sorcerer,” under his breath as he busied himself lining a number of...were those supposed to be _scalpels_?

Stephen felt like he’d been thrown in ice water. _What the **fuck **was Stark doing? _“Stark!” he wheezed, twisting against Nebula’s iron grasp. “Tony!”

Tony’s gaze snapped to his own, unwavering determination sparkling in his dark eyes. “You’re going to die, Stephen,” Tony rasped, voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t help _them_...but I can help _you._”

Stephen’s chest became dangerously tight as Nebula pushed down harder on his shoulders. “We don’t have any anesthesia but...I don’t want to just knock him out,” Tony told Nebula, hands quivering as they clinched the first scalpel.

Nebula sighed. “Of course _you _can’t. I have to do everything myself.”

And Stephen knew no more.

\---

Stephen jerked awake with a shout. His arms rose up to claw at his aching chest but Tony’s rough hand wrapped around his, trapping them on his stomach. “You’ll rip my stitches if you move too quickly, Stephen,” Tony reprimanded, warm hands squeezing Stephen’s lightly.

“What did you do?” Stephen croaked, attempting to twist his head and catch a glimpse of his chest. Tony flinched nervously and gently slid his hands behind Stephen’s bare back, pushing him upright. “Your heart just kept _stopping_,” he whispered, watching Stephen take in his handiwork.

On the left side of Stephen’s chest, just below his collarbone, was a small, triangular mass beneath his skin. Above it sat a similarly shaped device that had a faint blue glow, not too unlike the device Tony wore himself. A pacemaker of some sort, Stephen would guess. Tony quickly confirmed his suspicions.

“The inner unit sends the electrical impulse to the heart muscle,” Tony explained. “The outer unit charges the inner unit. The only decent batteries I could find are the ones keeping this flying tuna can in the sky so...I had to improvise.” Tony’s fingers shifted back down to interlock with Stephen’s as he spoke. “When we get back you can swap it out for something less...obvious. I’m sure in Wakanda they could-”

“It’s fine,” Stephen dismissed absently, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “I don’t mind.”

Somewhere behind them Nebula snorted roughly and grumbled about being subjected to undiscovered levels of stupidity and ignorance. Stephen ignored her, choosing to relish in the warmth of Tony’s hand instead.

Tony had healed Stephen’s heart; he’d brought Stephen back to life. The knowledge instilled something within him...something Stephen couldn’t yet name.

\---

Two days later, they arrived back on Earth. The unlikely trio navigated their way to Wakanda, where Tony was sure the surviving Avengers if there were any, would be.

On the third night after the shambles of Earth’s mightiest heroes, old and new, were reunited, Thanos returned.

\---

Thanos held Tony high in the air by the throat, a menacing glimmer in his eye. Stephen froze where he was standing, vibrant mandalas crumbling like ash as he stared in wide-eyed horror at Tony’s suffocating form.

A glimmer of gold slicing through the air was all that could be seen of General Okoye’s spear before it slammed into Thanos’ side. Clint Barton pelted the alien with far-shot arrows in quick succession. Nebula rushed past Stephen, hissing, “Get your head out of your ass!” and giving him a hard shove. Stephen nodded shakily and raced after her, conjuring amber cords that wound around Thanos’ arms and held them at his sides, forcing him to drop Tony in the process. Nebula leapt forward, long sabre aimed for her father’s chest while Thor simultaneously drove his axe into the back of his head.

Though it was unclear who dealt the killing blow, Thanos’ body crumbled under the combined force of Nebula’s and Thor’s attacks. A short, desperate cry tore from his throat as the dark, maniacal glint in his eyes faded and his entire form slackened against the grass below.

Thor dove forward and hauled the gauntlet from Thanos’ dead form, slamming it over his own fist. “For you, Brother!” he shouted, bringing his fingers together in a tight fist and swinging his arm upward. The groan of metal twisting and the scent of something burning filled the air only to be chased away by a rustling breeze. Tony staggered over to Stephen and fell against his side, using Stephen’s taller frame to support himself. The colored gems gleamed brightly and the world grew so bright Stephen had to turn and shield his eyes, a hand raising instinctively to protect Tony’s sight too.

\---

_It was over. It was done. _A slew of emotions slammed into Stephen at once. Grief, happiness, pain, _relief._

And Tony…Tony looked radiant. His face was lit in the light of the infinity stones, still glowing in the sizzling gauntlet on Thor’s fist, and a tired, weak smile pulled at his lips. The feeling was back; the one he’d felt back when they were still drifting about space. Only now, the feeling had a name that Stephen was too afraid to acknowledge.

Stephen abandoned all restraint and reached forward, weaving trembling fingers through the disarray of chestnut curls and pulling Tony’s lips to his own. The kiss was searing and tasted of blood and sweat. It lasted only moments and yet it felt like time stood still for only them while the years raced by around them. Stephen felt hot tears streak down his cheeks as he thought about how this is what it could be like forever. Preferably not flavored with the tang of blood, but passionate enough to make his toes curl while still sweet enough to fill him with warmth. They could have this. They could feel this. Together. Endlessly.

And then Tony’s mouth pulled away, his shaky panicked breaths fanning across Stephen’s collarbone.

“Tony?” Stephen whispered, eyes tightly shut. “Tony, please say something.”

Tony’s head lifted from Stephen’s chest and his dark eyes, shadowed with conflict, rose to meet Stephen’s. “Stephen, I…” his voice was wavering and breathy.

Stephen felt his face grow red. It had been too much too soon. He’d spooked Tony. What had he been thinking? It’d be weeks before he could show Tony his face again. Weeks alone with the _feeling _eating away at his heart.

“Stephen,” Tony started again, stepping back and out of the taller man’s embrace, “Pepper and I...we’re engaged.”

Stephen thought he would die of mortification on the spot. _Tony was engaged._ Tony was going to get married_. _He’d thrown himself at a man who was about to get _married_. He’d pictured a future with someone’s fiancé. Tony was engaged, and Stephen had kissed him and liked it; he’d kissed him and wanted _more._

Tony was still talking, a hand reaching out for Stephen’s arm. Nebula, drenched in her father’s blood, had a look of pity on her face as she quietly observed the two men. Thor observed from the side, head tilted in confusion. Vaguely, Stephen registered Peter calling for them from the distance. Somewhere from the same direction dozens of shadowy figures emerged from the horizon and rushed towards them, shouting triumphantly.

It was too much.

Stephen summoned a portal without thought, uncaring of where it took him and disappeared before Tony could realize he was leaving...that he was running.

\---

Wong grabbed Tony Stark by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back onto the Sanctum’s stoop.

“Wong!” Stark wheezed irritably, hand on his throat. “I need to come in! I need to see Stephen.”

Wong’s frown deepened, and he subtly widened his stance from where he stood in front of the doorway. “Stephen is not here.” It was a lie, of course. Stephen was upstairs in his bedroom, just as he had been for the last two days. No one had been able to talk to him, not even young Peter Parker.

“_Bullshit_,” Stark hissed. He reached up and activated his armor, giving Wong a determined glare as the nanotech began weaving itself over his arms. “I’ll blast through the wall, Wong. Don’t think I won’t!”

“He doesn’t want to see you,” Wong hurriedly shouted, fairly confident Stark _would _break his way into the Sanctum. “He is here, but he doesn’t want to see you.”

“But I thought…” Stark’s face crumbled, a look of confused heartbreak contorting his features. “When we-I mean when he…I thought he wanted….” he trailed off, lost in thought, before stepping off the front steps with a sigh of defeat. “Will you tell Stephen I came?” Stark pleaded, dark eyes colored with faint hope. “Will you tell him…will you tell him I miss him? That I want to talk to him?”

_No. _“Of course,” Wong replied smoothly, stepping back through the threshold of the door. “In the meantime, I suggest you go.”

\---

He shouldn’t have gone. There would have been talk, and Peter would have been disappointed, but it would have been better.

Stephen slipped into a seat in the back row just prior to Pepper stepping foot on the long, cream-colored runner that had been rolled down the aisle. Tony hadn’t noticed him, for which Stephen was both grateful and stung. But then again, should he have been noticed? Pepper was a beautiful bride -- breathtaking, really -- and Tony loved _her._

The ceremony began, but Stephen didn’t notice. He wasn’t there, not really. He was on Titan, Tony pushing on his chest, demanding he breathe. He was on the rust bucket Nebula had called a ship, Tony’s rough fingers threading through his own. He was standing in the pinkening light of dawn, Tony’s split and bloodied lips upon his own.

There was cheering, and the happy couple raced by hand-in-hand and, for a fraction of a second, Tony’s eyes met Stephen’s. It was so brief Stephen might have thought he imagined it had Tony’s smile not faltered for a moment and his step stumble. Stephen thought Tony might say something, but Pepper pulled her husband’s hand gently, and the pair disappeared out the door without a word.

A hand lightly brushed against Stephen’s elbow, pulling him from his thoughts. “Mister Strange?” Peter asked softly. “Would you mind taking me home? I-I forgot to study for my Geometry test, and it’s first thing tomorrow.”

Stephen knew it was a lie. Peter had sat in the Sanctum kitchen not two days ago complaining about the Pythagorean Theorem as he wrote out extensive notes. Stephen wondered if Peter knew about Titan, about the ship, about the _feeling. _Regardless, Stephen seized on the opportunity to flee from the Stark wedding with an enthusiastic nod. “Of course, Peter. Have you told May?”

“She knows I’m stepping out,” Peter replied, cryptically.

\---

Rhodey asked to dance with Pepper, and Tony readily bowed off the dance floor. If he was right, two of his guests had performed a subtle disappearing act which meant only one person remained that knew where he might be able to find a particular individual. “May! May Parker!” Tony gently pushed his way through the throng of drunken dancers and made his way to where Peter’s aunt was sitting. She looked up as he approached and offered a warm smile.

“Tony! What a lovely ceremony! I’m so happy for you and Pepper.”

“Oh, thank you,” Tony smiled weakly. “Have you seen Peter? Maybe with a tall guy? Grey streaks in his hair?”

“Doctor Strange?”

“Yes! Where are they? I wanted to-”

I look of understanding passed over May’s face and her smile changed. The corners drooped, and the crinkles disappeared around her eyes. It looked forced, sad. May stood suddenly, collecting her purse as she stepped away from her seat. “It really was a lovely wedding, Tony. Thank you so much for inviting Peter and I. He enjoyed it as well. If you’ll excuse me, I actually should be going.” She turned and left with another sad smile, leaving Tony standing there with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The party swirled around him, oblivious.

\---

Peter threw his worn, yellow backpack on the coffee table and kicked his sneakers off. “I hate Spanish, Mister Strange,” he groaned, flopping down on the other end of the couch. “It doesn’t make any _sense!_”

“Say that to the four hundred million people that speak it,” Stephen deadpanned, eyes never straying from his newspaper.

“I can’t,” Peter grinned, “I don’t know how.”

Stephen snorted, turned the page, and frowned. An entire section of the paper was missing. “Wong?” he called, irritably. After a moment, the librarian appeared in the doorway.

“Yes, Stephen?”

“Did you take a section out of my newspaper?” Stephen questioned, clearly annoyed.

Wong hesitated. “Yes. Did you want to read it?”

“That’s why I’m asking you, so yes.”

“Would you like me to go get it?” Wong asked, dejected. Stephen’s brows furrowed and he opened his mouth to answer when Peter interrupted, a hand already digging through his overflowing backpack.

“I have one, Mister Strange! You can borrow it if you want.” Stephen turned with a smile, missing the warning look Wong shot at Peter. The teen hesitated, but it was too late to retract the offer. Stephen took the paper and froze at the glossy photograph staring up at him.

Tony was standing there, smiling up at Stephen through his trademark sunglasses. His arm was around Pepper, whose hand was resting on her belly. Their wedding rings glistened brightly in the light, the sun shining down cheerfully over them as the picture was taken.

And glaring at Stephen, in bold black letters, was a headline he hadn’t wanted to ever see.

** _Pepper Stark Pregnant!_ **

\---

Tony had shattered Stephen’s heart; he’d killed Stephen.

Stephen screamed. Stephen cried. Stephen threw pictures across the room and lamps at the wall. He clawed at his chest, wailing in agony at the physical reminder of Tony that cursed his skin, that kept his heart beating. He ripped his plants from their pots, finding deep satisfaction in the audible rip as they tore from their roots. Stephen threw silver daggers at the staircase and conjured sweltering amber flames that swallowed the heavy drapes. He wove his fingers through his raven hair and pulled as he tearfully begged someone, _anyone_, to let the torture end.

But it didn’t. It couldn’t. It _wouldn’t_.

Stephen knelt in the middle of the destroyed room, his relentless sobs echoing off the walls. Around him, the air twisted like shards of broken glass and swept away the evidence of his grief, as was the nature of the mirror dimension.

He didn’t notice his magic slipping through the cracks in reality, nor did he see the storm clouds gather in the sky outside.

\---

Tony Stark’s coffee eyes swept across the sky, lids fluttering as jagged flashes of lightning tore across the rapidly darkening clouds. Groaning thunder rolled in the distance, and the heavens opened, a cascade of rain falling onto the unsuspecting New Yorkers. It seemed...different than typical rain. It was almost if the gods were weeping, their mourning so great it reached down and pierced the souls of those on Earth.

Pepper shrieked and darted closer to the tree line, her hands instinctively wrapping protectively around her swollen abdomen.

Tony lingered in the downpour, overwhelming grief sinking through his skin as the droplets collected on his clothes. His tongue swept over his lips, drawing the collection of chilly dewdrops from his upper lip into his mouth. It was odd; the droplets tasted vaguely of salt. It was as if the rain _was_ made of tears rather than tiny drops of water.

And together, two broken men grieved alone.


End file.
